


Cabin in the Woods

by MyThoughtBubbles



Series: Indulgences [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Abstract, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gaslighting, M/M, Mental Disintegration, Mental Instability, Mild Smut, Psychological Horror, Spooky, Time Manipulation, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyThoughtBubbles/pseuds/MyThoughtBubbles
Summary: It truly starts with the cup.It never stays where Iruka puts it, or at least where he thinks he puts it. He doesn't remember moving it.After a brief search, he finds it on the windowsill, filled to the brim with wisps of steam floating away. Iruka tries to remember making a fresh cup. He tries to remember drinking the first, the flowery scent of chamomile already in his breath.“Get it together, Iruka, you’re losing it,” he mutters, ignoring the disquietude growing in the back of his mind. “It’s afucking cup of tea.You forgot you made it, it’s no big deal.” With shaky resolve, Iruka retrieves the cup and dumps the tea into the sink. He watches the water swirl and drain away.He wants to leave.Or: there's a spooky cabin and weird shit happens
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Series: Indulgences [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/764616
Comments: 16
Kudos: 120





	Cabin in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HazelBeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelBeka/gifts).



> Happy October!  
> Here's my attempt at something spooky.

How strange, Iruka thinks. The cabin seems abandoned but there is plenty of firewood and barrels full of clean water.

The layout consists of a small kitchenette to the left of the entrance, a sparse living room to the right, and a single bedroom with a tiny bathroom hanging off the back right corner. Grateful and somewhat apologetic to the missing owners, Iruka settles in to wait out the storm for the night. He busies himself by filling out a mission report by the light of the fire. As the snow continues to fall, Iruka absently considers himself lucky that the door was unlocked.

The morning of the next day, Iruka glances out the window to see the snow piling higher and the storm raging on with no signs of ebbing. He resigns himself to staying a while longer, not willing to risk journeying the hundred or so miles to Konoha. Nibbling on a few pieces of stale bread, Iruka’s relieved he had the foresight to pack extra supplies. He dutifully rations out a week’s worth of food and seals the rest back into the supply scroll. Night soon dawns and he huddles next to the fire with a book he discovered in the bedroom.

-

_Somebody’s here._

Viciously wrenched from his sleep with his instincts shrieking at him, Iruka throws off the sheets and vaults towards his weapons pouch. Sweeping the room with a kunai in hand, he sees nothing out of the ordinary. As the minutes tick by and the only sound is his ragged breathing, Iruka ventures out into the rest of the cabin and finds his wards intact. An inspection out the front door reveals fresh, untouched snow.

There’s nothing amiss.

Then what woke him? Belatedly, Iruka realizes he’s forgotten, the memory already slipping through his grasp. Confused, he heads back to the bedroom and surveys it. His pack rests in a wooden chair by the empty closet and the window is — Iruka’s gaze pulls back to the closet.

Three lonely clothes hangers greet him. He frowns. Didn’t he close the door before he went to bed? He was sure… His concern quickly gives way to a surge of sleepiness and Iruka returns to bed wondering why he’s out in the first place.

In the morning, he dresses warmly and decides to store his pack in the closet. He grabs the knob and twists, dismayed when the door doesn’t open.

“Maybe there’s a key around,” he sighs. He places his pack on the neatly made bed and wanders into the kitchenette. A peek out the window tells him the snow is still too high to traverse and he settles in for another day.

-

The cabin, once cozy and safe, begins to feel oppressive. The air is heavy, pressing down on Iruka’s shoulders as if trying to mold him into the dusty wooden planks. Iruka contemplates checking out the perimeter, if just to escape the stuffy atmosphere, but the mere idea drains the energy from him. Why even step outside? There’s too much snow — it’s easier to stay inside.

As he douses the fire and prepares for bed by the light of a flickering lantern, Iruka’s attention is drawn to the back wall in the kitchenette. He holds the lantern high, casting severe shadows that dance around him. _Was there—?_ No. It’s just a wall. Iruka scratches the back of his head and stares, as if waiting for something. He then withdraws to the bedroom, lamenting the loss of the book he had been reading.

-

It truly starts with the cup.

It never stays where Iruka puts it, or at least where he thinks he puts it. He doesn't remember moving it.

After a brief search, he finds it on the windowsill, filled to the brim with wisps of steam floating away. Iruka tries to remember making a fresh cup. He tries to remember drinking the first, the flowery scent of chamomile already in his breath.

“Get it together, Iruka, you’re losing it,” he mutters, ignoring the disquietude growing in the back of his mind. “It’s a _fucking cup of tea._ You forgot you made it, it’s no big deal.” With shaky resolve, Iruka retrieves the cup and dumps the tea into the sink. He watches the water swirl and drain away.

He wants to leave.

-

Iruka rises with a powerful determination to trek home, snow or no snow. He tidies up his mess and leaves a polite note on the bed along with a bit of currency. He straps on his winter boots and ties his hair back, each act feeling like a ritual, returning his confidence. He sets his poncho aside and dumps out his pack.

Iruka surveys his supplies. He double checks and then checks once more. He lays everything out on the dirty living room carpet, dread slithering up his spine to coil around his neck.

“That can’t be right. I’ve been here for five days at most…” Somehow, nearly a month’s worth of supplies are missing. Iruka frantically digs through the rest of his pack and pulls out his checklist. A choked, strangled sound escapes him as he sees most of the list marked off and there’s a tally of days in the right-hand corner.

Iruka’s breathing quickens and his heart beats queerly. It’s his own handwriting.

Outside, the storm worsens mockingly and Iruka thinks the wind sounds like laughter.

-

_There’s something wrong with the cabin_ , Iruka tries not to think. He pointedly avoids looking out the windows, unsettled by the snow that never stops and never changes. Always enough that he can’t leave.

The cup waits for him, fresh and steaming, on the mantle of the fireplace. Iruka doesn’t remember making it. He doesn’t remember a lot, now. He holds vague recollections of going to sleep and waking up, but the order is mixed up. He tries to keep tally, but the markings change with each addition. Sometimes it’s been a month, other times just a few days. He writes little notes in the margins of the scroll, only to find nothing the next time he checks. Sometimes, he finds notes he hasn’t written, the indecipherable scrawl still his own.

He thought it was a trick of an obscure form of chakra, something he’s unfamiliar with; no chakra-detecting seals or tags reveal anything other than his own essence.

It’s an ordinary storm, and an ordinary cabin.

-

_Is he real?_

Iruka finds himself reading the scribble over and over. He’s left utterly baffled. Is _who_ real? Did he write it? It doesn’t look like his handwriting, but it’s so sloppy…

Iruka dismisses the note and finishes assessing his supplies. He’s quite proud he had packed extra. Who knows how long he’ll be stuck here — at least the two-bedroom cabin is spacious.

-

The half-digested ration bar threatens to come back up and Iruka finds himself trembling, the hairs on his neck standing straight. His breaths come in short bursts and he doesn’t want to turn around, the brief glimpse he caught while absently looking around burned into his eyes.

There’s a new door.

It sits on the back wall of the kitchenette, the frame as old and dusty as the rest of the cabin. It’s always been there, yet it hasn’t. Childishly, Iruka hides himself in the bedroom closet, tucked into a corner with his arms around himself. He shudders when he hears the door open and footsteps come through.

-

The door refuses to go away. Half-hoping it would vanish like the cup, Iruka rarely strays out of the bedroom, retreating when he sees the door still in the kitchenette. He’s faintly concerned he doesn’t remember the last time he ate, but the absence of hunger pangs allays his worry. Perhaps he has eaten. He sips his cup of tea and hopes the snow will stop soon.

-

Iruka paces the bedroom as he devises a plan of escape. He refuses to speak aloud - he knows the cabin is listening. The walls soak up his voice and mimic him, speaking quietly at night when he tries to sleep. He grinds his teeth, nervous to even think. Iruka turns sharp corners around the bed and he pauses when he notices less and less space to walk, as if the walls were inching inward, caging him. Panic builds, his lungs feeling equally as caged in his chest. He can’t breathe, a ringing sound scraping against his eardrums. _He needs to get out!_

A wealth of anger strikes him and Iruka seizes it with both hands, pushing back against the fear clawing up his throat. “Fuck you!” He screams. _“Fuck you!”_

Carelessly, without his pack or poncho, Iruka launches himself out of the bedroom, out of the cabin, and into the storm. In the endless, blinding white void that reaches cold fingers past his flesh and into his very bones, Iruka loses all sense of direction and tumbles down, cushioned by the snow. He tries to get up and soon accepts the blackness creeping in at the edges of his mind.

-

Something tugs at his consciousness and Iruka wants to ignore it. “C’mon sensei, you can’t die on me yet,” a rough, male voice says urgently. _“Shit._ Iruka, I know you can hear me. Wake up!”

Heat burns along Iruka’s body and he can’t move away, his deadened limbs refusing to cooperate. He knows it’s a trick, anyway.

-

Iruka wakes up to the sight of the cabin’s ceiling. He yawns and dutifully climbs out of bed, tidying up after a moment of guilt. “I should leave them a note,” he mutters. “And some money. I’m using their property, after all.”

He idly wanders the tiny space of the cabin and spots a kettle. With a wide grin, he fills the kettle and switches on the gas stovetop. As the water heats up, he peers out the door and whistles. “Doesn’t look like the storm’s letting up anytime soon. Dunno if I can march through that back to Konoha.” What luck he found somewhere to hole up!

“Something smells good.”

Alarmed that his wards haven’t gone off, Iruka whirls around and sees Kakashi-sensei exit the door in the back wall of the kitchenette.

He nods at Iruka and retrieves a cup from the cupboard above the stove. “Any signs of it slowing down?” He fills his cup from the kettle and wanders over to the window where he places his cup on the windowsill. “If it keeps going, we’ll be stuck here for a while.”

At Iruka’s lack of response, Kakashi glances over. “Sensei?”

_Bang-bang-bang!_

Iruka jolts and turns to the front door. He glances back at an unbothered Kakashi who takes a swig from his cup and wanders back through the door, leaving Iruka alone as the door rattles three more times.

Oddly detached from his own body, unsure if he’s dreaming, Iruka opens the door. He sees nothing but fresh, untouched snow.

-

Kakashi rubs his hands together and Iruka frowns.

“Any closer and you’ll burn yourself, Kakashi-san,” he warns. He hands Kakashi a steaming mug of tea and Kakashi gratefully takes it and returns to his perch by the fireplace.

“If it’s between frostbite and a regular burn, I’ll take the burn,” Kakashi mutters. “I can’t feel them anyways.”

Iruka peers out the window and gathers Kakashi’s snow-sodden poncho and flak jacket into a pile. “How long were you out there?”

“Few days at most. It hit pretty suddenly - fast enough that I couldn’t orient myself. I sent the ninken ahead - they should’ve made it to Konoha by now.” Kakashi settles deeper into the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “We might be in for a rough time, sensei. I’m nearly out of supplies and I wouldn’t count on Tsunade sending out a search party anytime soon.”

Iruka grins. “Lucky for us, I plan for contingencies. I think we’ll do fine.”

Kakashi offers his own masked grin and Iruka finds it endearing, as always. “You’ll have to put up with me,” Kakashi jokes. “Is this your cabin?”

“Ah, no. I...found it, I guess.” Iruka frowns. How did he get here?

Kakashi doesn’t notice his hesitation. “Hope you don’t mind sharing a bedroom, or if—”

“I don’t mind at all.” Iruka feels his pulse pick up and his cheeks begin to warm. “Could be fun.”

Kakashi stares at him and tilts his head a degree. “Looks like I’ll be in your debt,” he says in a low voice.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to pay me back,” Iruka says coyly on his way to the kitchenette. He opens the door and sends Kakashi a wink.

-

_Somebody’s here. They’re knocking on the window._

Iruka covers his ears and closes his eyes. He presses his back to the wall of the closet and draws his knees up. “There’s nothing, I hear nothing. I can’t hear him. I can’t hear him,” he whispers desperately. “I can’t hear it. I can’t hear it. I can’t hear it.

The window continues to call for him.

-

Kakashi eyes Iruka and in the long silence that follows, Iruka coldly realizes he can’t trust him. The cabin made him, created him from Iruka’s very thoughts. He isn’t real.

“I don’t hear any knocking,” Kakashi says eventually. He arches a silver brow. “Are you alright, sensei? Did you clip your head on something when you fell?” The concern in his eye falls short. “Do you know how long you were out there?”

Iruka forces a smile, his hands clammy. “Must’ve just misheard something.” He chews mechanically on his ration bar and watches the imposter carefully.

-

Kakashi’s hands slide up Iruka’s thighs and pull his legs apart, slotting his hips between them. He sucks another trail of wet kisses down Iruka’s throat and grunts as Iruka bucks his hips impatiently.

“I don’t usually fuck on the first date,” Kakashi gasps and thrusts back in a way that sends Iruka cursing. _“Fuck me_ , I-”

Iruka yanks him down for another kiss, his free hand slipping between them to wrap around Kakashi and himself. “I don’t either,” Iruka manages breathily, pumping his hand. “Ngh, I’m just—”

“Fucking horny as hell,” Kakashi finishes cheekily. His fingers find Iruka’s entrance and begin to press in, slicked with oil. “And equally as impatient.”

His fingers reach deep into Iruka, steadily stretching him, and Iruka throws his head back, his spine arcing. “Hurry up,” he groans.

“We have all the time in the world.” Kakashi pulls his fingers away and lines up, the head of his cock pressing hotly against Iruka. “All the time we could want.”

-

“Kakashi-san!”

Panicked, Iruka throws open the door and grabs Kakashi’s flak jacket and hauls him inside towards the fire. As he looks up and the front door swings shut on its own, Iruka finds it remarkable that the storm has already covered Kakashi’s tracks, leaving the snow unblemished.

Quickly, Iruka strips off Kakashi’s sodden uniform and poncho and tries to quell the interest that builds as he reveals Kakashi’s lean body inch by inch. He’s relieved as color begins to flow back into Kakashi’s limbs and he moves on his own.

How fortunate, Iruka thinks, that Kakashi-san has stumbled upon the tiny cabin as well. He hopes the storm lasts a little longer - he’d like to stay.

-

Iruka flinches as Kakashi touches his forehead and his fingernail catches on Iruka’s healing scrape. “Doesn’t look bad, but I’m not sure if I should take a crack at healing it. My medical ninjutsu is rough.”

Iruka waves a hand and puts some distance between them. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Kakashi mutters. He turns back to sharpening his kunai. “Did you manage to check the perimeter of the cabin? Any weak points we can work on?” He holds a kunai up to his eye and inspects the edge. “Or is that what you were doing when I found you in the snow?”

Iruka looks at him oddly. “What do you mean? Why would I go outside?”

Kakashi lowers the kunai and stares into the fire. He then turns to Iruka. “Are you real?” he asks.

-

Carelessly, albeit with a smidge of guilt, Kakashi tosses his pack on the floor and shakes snow from his shoulders and hair. He stomps his boots and breathes into his frozen hands as he glances around the tiny cabin.

“Thank fuck,” he grunts. “Small, but I’ll take it.”

Finding a nice pile of firewood, he tosses several pieces into the fireplace and lights them. Bit by bit, the feeling in his fingers and toes returns and Kakashi finally relaxes. Once the cabin is warm, he canvasses the exits and entrances. The tiny cabin holds only one bedroom that’s connected to the kitchenette. An odd layout, but again, he’s not complaining.

-

On the third day, or what he presumes is the third day, considering he’s not really keeping track, Kakashi finds himself staring at a door that wasn’t there before. It’s in the back right corner of the cabin, where he would expect to find a bedroom as opposed to the odd kitchenette-connected one he’s using.

“You’re new,” he says aloud with forced apathy. “Where did you come from?”

Weighing the odds and ignoring the direct question to his sanity, he tries the doorknob and finds it locked. He whips out a kunai and breaks the lock. Throwing the door open, he finds the continuation of the cabin’s wall.

Kakashi scoffs. “A door that goes nowhere?”

He taps his knuckle on the wood a few times but can’t detect the hollow sound of a false wall. Backing away, he leaves the door open.

A strange thought occurs to him. What did he let in?

-

Kakashi pauses mid-step and turns.

The door is closed.

Unable to remember if he closed it or not, Kakashi dismisses it and prepares his breakfast, his mind miles away. As he settles into the chair in the living room, he looks over again and hesitates. Annoyed with himself, he rises and reaches for the knob, pausing an inch away as he notices the smooth metal of the lock — the gouges left by his kunai are gone. Uneasy, he pulls back and his mind races. On autopilot, he knocks on the door three times. Abruptly impatient, he knocks again, harder.

_Bang-bang-bang._

Bang.

Something knocks back.

Refusing to acknowledge the dread seeping into his body, Kakashi throws on his poncho and stomps out into the snow and around the cabin where the door is mounted. He takes a wobbly step in the knee-high snow and blinks and finds himself staring at the front door of the cabin, his hand raised and his knuckles aching.

The door slowly opens.

-

Somehow, in the back of his mind, Kakashi always knew Iruka would feel fantastic.

He thrusts back in and shudders as Iruka tightens around him. “F-fuck,” he whines. At this rate, he won’t last. His hand, oiled as all fuck thanks to Iruka’s ingenuity, wraps around Iruka’s cock and strives to make him cum first.

“That’s cheating,” Iruka keens, throbbing in his hand. “Augh, ch-cheater!”

Kakashi ignores the pillow tossed his way and angles his thrusts in a way that leaves Iruka practically sobbing. “All’s fair in love and war,” he says with a smirk, aware of his own bullshit. Sweat drips down his temple and chin and Kakashi wonders why it’s so hot. The room feels steamy.

Iruka is scorching on the inside and he drives back in, matching Iruka’s moans.

“Slow down,” Iruka begs, his brown eyes beseeching Kakashi. “Kakashi!”

Something in them dulls and before Kakashi can give it more thought, Iruka clenches around him. The thought vanishes and Kakashi can no longer think.

-

  
  


Kakashi finishes the final tally and marks it down.

“How much do we have?” Iruka calls out from his perch on the sofa, still swathed in a mountain of blankets Kakashi dumped on him.

“Few weeks, if we’re careless. About a month if we’re careful.”

Iruka smiles, his cheeks rosy in the light of the fire. “Should we aim for somewhere in between?”

“If you’d like. They’re your supplies, after all. You could starve me out,” Kakashi says, only half-joking. He grins at Iruka’s eye roll.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Iruka chides. “You saved me, I’m in your debt. Really, I have to pay _you_ back.”

Kakashi can’t help himself. “I know of a few ways.” At the lack of response, Kakashi peeks over and is caught by Iruka’s dark eyes practically undressing him. He swallows heavily, the cabin becoming unbearably hot.

“Well, let’s hear them,” Iruka says and begins to pull off the blankets.

-

_Someone is here._

Kakashi bolts awake, a chidori sparking in his hand before he’s fully conscious. In the sharp blue light, he scans the cabin’s bedroom once and freezes, his hand going slack.

The layout of the bedroom is different - it’s not where he fell asleep.

His pulse roars, the beat knocking against the inside of his skull. Where is he? The walls look similar — he’s still in the cabin; but the cabin holds a single bedroom, it’s not possible to be elsewhere.

At once angry and entirely unsettled, Kakashi straps on his weapons pouch, more for reassurance than anything, and slips out of the bedroom door to find himself in the living room, not the kitchenette where his bedroom began. He doesn’t move for a moment, the hairs on his neck and arms standing straight up.

His head slowly looks to the right, his gaze dragging across the tiny cupboards and sink until he reaches the back wall.

There’s no door.

On shaky, unsteady legs, Kakashi drops into the lovechair in the living room. On the little table beside him, there’s a book he’s never seen before and it strikes terror into his heart.

-

Iruka blinks and his smile crystallizes. “What do you mean?”

“How did you get here?” Kakashi repeats forcibly as his head pounds. The walls of the cabin seem to warp and bend, adding to the pressure building behind his eyes. “How did you find me?”

“You brought me here,” Iruka gasps and he’s naked beneath Kakashi, body sliding across the bed sheets as Kakashi thrusts back in. “You saved me.”

“No.” Sickened, Kakashi retreats and bumps into the small table in the living room, everything spinning. Sweat soaks his shirt and he shivers violently. “I didn’t. I couldn't have, you were already.... you’re not real. You’re not fucking real.”

“What do you mean?” Iruka frowns from his spot besides the fire and sets his book down. He places the back of his hand against Kakashi’s forehead. “You’re a bit warm. I think you’re coming down with a fever. How long were you out there?”

Kakashi’s vision splits in two and he seizes Iruka’s wrist in a bone-crushing grip only to let go when he sees he’s holding a cup, poised to drink the brown liquid.

The world darkens to black.

-

_There’s something wrong with the cabin_ , Kakashi thinks idly.

Maybe a time dilation jutsu? Something that skews the sense of time and days passing? Something that inhibits proper memory processing? Either that, or the isolation is pushing him further towards the edge. He roams the tiny cabin and finds nothing to indicate jutsu manipulation outside of the wards he summoned a few days ago.

He blinks. Was it a few days? How long has he been here?

It dawns on him that he can’t remember the last time he ate. It dawns on him that the storm hasn’t stopped once, yet the snow doesn’t change. Just enough to keep him in the cabin.

He settles in for another day with a sigh. It’d be nice to have company.

-

Wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling, Kakashi can’t stop the trembling of his hands. His breathing is erratic, almost hyperventilating. He can’t move. He’s afraid to move.

Something is in the closet, whispering his name.

-

The fire burns brightly.

Kakashi wraps another blanket around his shoulders and draws Iruka closer. Iruka’s icy naked back presses flush against Kakashi’s chest and Kakashi doesn’t mind one bit. He tightens his hold, trying to imbue Iruka with his body heat. Beside them, Iruka’s clothes sit in a puddle of water.

Iruka shivers and burrows into him. “T-thanks, Kakashi-sensei,” he says through chattering teeth, another powerful tremor wracking through him. “Sorry t-to intrude.”

“Hey, it’s not my place. I’m intruding with you.”

“How’d you g-get here?”

“Same way you did,” he replies absently, unable to remember. His alarm is muted and brushed aside as Iruka’s pursed lips draw his attention.

“Lucky me.”

Kakashi grins. “Keep talking and you’ll bite your tongue off. Just rest and recover.” Heat dusts his cheeks and he’s selfishly glad to have found Iruka. He won’t mind staying longer if Iruka keeps him company.

-

“Is this what you want!?”

Kakashi takes the chair and slams it against the windows, the shattering glass squealing as if in pain. He breaks the next one and the next, each time striking harder. _“Fuck you!”_

Ice-cold wind slithers in through the windows and the cabin howls, shuddering as the snow piles onto the carpet.

Panicked, furious, Kakashi throws the broken pieces of the chair into the fire and turns his anger onto the other door, ripping it off the hinges and attacking it with a pulsing chidori. The cupboards and cabinets are torn off the walls and shredded.

“ _Get out of my fucking head!”_

He destroys everything, rendering the cabin into a war zone with walls. Standing in the gutted remains, covered in dust and snow, Kakashi hauls for the door, ready to face the storm rather than stay a minute longer.

“Are you going to stand there all night?”

Chest heaving and ice hardening in his veins, Kakashi stops a foot outside the cabin. He slowly turns, finding Iruka beckoning to him with a cup of steaming hot tea, a coy smile on his lips.

Iruka places it on the mantle and sits down in the chair. “You’ll catch a draft if you don’t come in,” he says teasingly. “Here, sit by me.” Iruka pats the chair and gazes into the fire, his face distorting for a brief moment. “We can keep each other warm.”

And Kakashi is tired, so very tired. He wants to. He sees himself stepping back into the cabin and sinking down next to Iruka, pulling him close and then into the bedroom. He sees how easy it would be to give in and rest, to let the cabin eat away at him, Iruka by his side.

Hollow, Kakashi drops to his knees in the doorway, inches away from the threshold.

“I’m waiting,” Iruka calls out and Kakashi quivers, his muscles twitching with an aborted move. “Are you going to leave me by myself?”

With the last of his strength, Kakashi bows his head and shuffles to face the snowstorm. He stares unseeingly into the blinding white, uncaring of the icy wind that whips at him and numbs his body. 

Behind him, Iruka grows silent and Kakashi can feel the cabin’s displeasure. “Kakashi-sensei, won’t you please come in? I’m worried about you.”

Kakashi doesn’t respond.

Sing-songy now. “Kakashi? Are you hungry? I’ve made your favorite.” The scent of roasting meat blossoms behind him.

Kakashi notices the snow is beginning to stop, lightening into a mist. 

Meekly seductive. “Kakashi, I have a surprise for you. C’mere, it’s in the bedroom.”

He focuses on the shivering trees. Is the wind dying down? Or is it another trick?

The air tastes metallic and burns Kakashi’s nose. “Kakashi-san? Kakashi-san, is that you? Oh gods, please tell me you’re real. I-I can’t tell anymore... _help me, please.”_

Kakashi twitches, the voice sounding too real, too terrified to be replicated. He swallows and clenches his knees in a bruising grip. _“Stop,”_ he begs, knowing he won’t be able to resist for much longer.

This time, Iruka doesn’t respond.

Eventually, as the storm eases, so does the heavy weight bearing down on Kakashi’s shoulders. It’s hours later when he risks a look.

The cabin is rotting.

Broken windows and termite-ridden walls greet Kakashi. Barely standing up in the gentle winds of the passing storm, the cabin sags with a creak that Kakashi thinks sounds like a mournful groan. 

Against his better judgement, Kakashi ventures inside, half-expecting to see a similarly rotting Iruka waiting for him. Instead, he finds the dilapidated remains of kitchenette and moth-eaten beds within the two bedrooms, both void of any signs of being recently used.

Kakashi slumps against the wall.

-

Then, the storm ends.

Uneasy, he steps outside into a warm, sunny day that’s vanquishing the void of white. He waits for the storm to return, waits for the cabin to pull him back in, waits for someone to join him. When they don’t, he begins his journey back to Konoha.

He thinks he hears the door open one last time and footsteps emerge from within.

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely a lot more abstract than anything I've written before - it was really fun to play around with!  
> It _was _supposed to be a ghost story buuuut that didn't really happen.__  
>  Hope you guys liked it <3


End file.
